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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26061040">I climb the heights (I tear them down)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starrie_Wolf/pseuds/Starrie_Wolf'>Starrie_Wolf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood &amp; Manga</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alchemy wasn't what made him badass; his mind was, BAMF Edward Elric, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Grown Up Edward Elric, Post-Promised Day, Zine: FMA Travel Zine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:22:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,894</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26061040</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starrie_Wolf/pseuds/Starrie_Wolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The year Ed returned to Amestris, the Drachman Tsar decided to send an ambassador to Briggs for peace talks.</p><p><i>Peace</i> was not what they had in mind.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>449</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I climb the heights (I tear them down)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written in 2018 for the FMA Travel Zine<br/>Section: North [Briggs]<br/>With thanks to forsan, KaeyShi, Raining_Sky_Guy, InfinityWolf, and Hakuhouou for beta work, cheerleading, and helping to name the fic!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ed propped an elbow on the windowsill, watching the train pull into North City station. He still remembered the first time he came here, just a fresh-faced brat chasing after a rumour and a glimmer of hope. A kid who had leapt off the train scarcely before it had come to a full stop, eager to feel the snow on his face.</p><p>The train shuddered to a halt, and Ed alighted sedately with the other passengers, although he still halted outside the station, turning his face up to catch the snowflakes on his cheek.</p><p>It had been three years since he last came up North. Resembool, Creta, Aerugo, Ishval… none of these places snowed as much as Northern Amestris did.</p><p>Ed only snapped out of his reverie when one of the passers-by nearly bumped into him, and he frowned at the steady stream of people.</p><p>Huh. He didn’t remember seeing so many people the last time…</p><p>Maybe it was tourist season. Ever since Mustang had risen to the position of Lieutenant General a while back and had started lifting civilian travel restrictions, the tourist industry had flourished. Ed and Al couldn’t possibly be the only people in Amestris who loved snow.</p><p>His stomach let out a loud gurgle.</p><p>Ed patted it reassuringly. “I wonder if that inn is still open…” he mused aloud. “That stew was so good; I hope they’re still serving it.”</p><p> </p><p>---------- LINE BREAK ----------</p><p> </p><p>The inn was, to his great fortune, both still open and still serving their house special. Ed tore off a piece of bread, dipping it into the thick rich stew. He’d have to bring Al here some time; this was just as good as he remembered it to be.</p><p>For this time of the day, the inn was surprisingly full, packed with chattering customers and families. Definitely tourists, Ed noted, listening to all the discussions about travel plans.</p><p>There were a couple of off-duty soldiers tucked into the nearest booth. Their voices were nearly drowned out by the din of the crowd, but Ed couldn’t help but overhear snatches of their conversation.</p><p>“– never thought I’d see a ceasefire in my lifetime,” a grizzled old veteran was saying.</p><p>Ceasefire?</p><p>Could it be…</p><p>“So it’s true, then?” One of the younger soldiers, an ensign by the look of her uniform, clasped her hands around her water glass. “The Drachman Tsar is really sending an ambassador to Amestris for peace talks?”</p><p>Ed nearly dropped his spoon.</p><p>He fumbled the catch, barely rescuing the utensil from the dubious cleanliness of the table, but his mind was on the envelope tucked safely in a leg sheath strapped to his thigh, the same place where he used to keep his alchemy research notes.</p><p>So <em>that</em> was why Mustang was making him rush a letter up to Briggs?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Your minions not free to courier stuff for you?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Roy gave a slight grimace. “Unfortunately, my minions, as you call them, are all otherwise occupied.” He holds the letter out again. “Edward, you’re the only one I can trust to do this.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What am I, your delivery boy?” Ed griped, but he shoved the letter into his waist pouch anyway. So much for thinking he could take a quick break in Resembool after a year spent in Creta and Aerugo.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“It’s all thanks to Grumman and Mustang,” someone else was saying, but Ed was already shoving his chair back. If this letter in his pocket was as important as it seemed to be, he had better be on his way.</p><p> </p><p>---------- LINE BREAK ----------</p><p> </p><p>Getting to Briggs, as it turned out, was the easy part. There were so many convoys of supplies headed up to the fortress that it was almost insultingly easy to sneak under a tarp and catch a ride all the way up.</p><p>The warmth told him that he was in the lower sections of the fortress. Ed dusted himself off, darting towards the nearest staircase before anyone could notice his presence. Now… if he still remembered the route right…</p><p>“Halt!”</p><p>As expected of Briggs, he thought sardonically, putting his hands up in the air and turning around slowly.</p><p>The man who stopped him was wearing military blues, but the dark skin and red eyes were a completely unexpected, if familiar, sight.</p><p>“Miles!” he exclaimed with no little surprise. He had no idea why Miles had stopped wearing his goggles, but the new look suited him.</p><p>Miles squinted at him, but recognition dawned almost instantly. “Edward Elric?!”</p><p>“I didn’t know you were back in the North!” Ed put a hand over his heart and bowed in the traditional Ishvalan greeting between friends.</p><p>“Lieutenant General Mustang was kind enough to grant me an advisory role, now that the foundations have been laid,” Miles explained, returning the greeting. “I spend half the year in Ishval and half the year in Briggs.”</p><p>“That’s nice.” Ed didn’t expect that of Mustang; but then, maybe he should have. The Bastard was surprisingly thoughtful when it came to his subordinates.</p><p>“But enough.” Miles held up a hand, face turning stern. “What are you doing here – how did you even get in?”</p><p>This was Miles. If there was anyone he can trust in this place, it would be Miles, who fought at his side during the Promised Day and later on went with Mustang to help restore Ishval.</p><p>“I hitched a ride in one of the convoy cars. Mustang has an urgent letter – for the General’s eyes only.”</p><p>Miles’ forehead creased faintly. “Come this way.”</p><p>Ed followed him to what looked like a blank wall at first, but it slid open to reveal what was unmistakably an elevator.</p><p>“The General is with Tsarevna Vasiliev at the moment,” Miles explained, pressing a button. “You can wait in mission control until she has a minute to spare.” His mouth twisted wryly. “It may take a while.”</p><p>“The Tsarevna is already here?” Ed was so startled that he almost didn’t remember to follow Miles out of the elevator, and had to run to catch up. “I thought the talks weren’t due to start for another week or so.” At least, that was what the North City soldiers had been saying.</p><p>Miles paused. “Yes,” he finally offered, opening one of the nondescript doors and ushering Ed in.</p><p>It was a supply closet.</p><p>“Get a change of clothes first,” Miles advised. “You stick out like a sore thumb.”</p><p>Ed made a face, but he had to admit to the practicality of that suggestion. He was <em>definitely</em> not taking one of the blue ones, though. He hadn’t worn one even while he <em>was</em> in the damned military; he wasn’t wearing one <em>now</em>.</p><p>The mission operators looked up curiously when Ed came in, now dressed in Engineering greys, but at a wave from Miles their attention snapped collectively back to their workstations.</p><p>“I’ll let the General know,” Miles told him. “Just stay put for now.”</p><p> </p><p>---------- LINE BREAK ----------</p><p> </p><p>As though Truth was laughing at him, Ed found himself placed on Icicle-cleaning duty <em>again</em>.</p><p>If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought Armstrong had it out for him. He <em>did</em> know better, though, so he actually knew that General Armstrong had it out for him. And Mustang. And everybody else, except maybe her younger sister.</p><p>These icicles sure had it out for him, too.</p><p>Ed swiped the latest icicle of doom out of the way with his broom, narrowly escaping a new haircut. He was taller than he’d been at age sixteen, sure, but that just meant his head was <em>closer</em> to the guillotines masquerading as harmless sculptures of ice.</p><p>The next one glittered mockingly at him.</p><p>Ed squinted. Wait, did he just see…</p><p>He peered into the darkness, but only a frozen landscape greeted his eyes. Ed shook his head. He’d been out in the cold for far too long, if he was now imagining things shining in the dark –</p><p>There it was again.</p><p>His head snapped around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, and he stared unblinkingly out at the darkness beyond the fortress walls.</p><p>Something was out there. Something with <em>light</em>. Briggs didn’t have any wildlife that could make light, as far as Ed remembered, which meant –</p><p>Some<em>one</em> was out there.</p><p>The light flashed again, and this time he was looking directly at it, brief pulses and pauses in what could only be code.</p><p>Ed tapped the rhythm against his leg, but it wasn’t Morse code or any other code that he knew of.</p><p>Abandoning his broom, he leaned over the parapet, bracing himself against the stone with both hands. Those pulses were far too deliberate to be anything but a message – and if there was a message, there must be a <em>recipient</em>.</p><p>His fingers dug into the stone, but Ed barely registered the icy bite.</p><p>
  <em>One, two, three, four…</em>
</p><p>Six windows across, three floors down. There was a light coming from that room, pulsing in a way that could only be deliberate.</p><p>Ed turned and pelted for the stairs.</p><p>Three flights of stairs, through a sealed bulkhead door, and then another –</p><p>He skidded to a halt at the sight of multiple lances pointed in his direction and raised his hands warily.</p><p>“What business have you with the Tsarevna?” demanded one of the guards. Tall, dark-haired and skin the colour of snow – he was a Drachman, Ed noted, even as his words registered.</p><p>The <em>Tsarevna</em> lived here? But that would mean…</p><p>“Nothing,” he forced himself to say, through gritted teeth. “Must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere, sorry about that –”</p><p>The guards weren’t buying that excuse, he could tell immediately; their weapons were inching higher in preparation. Ed took another step backwards, his hands still held cautiously in the air. Six more to the first of the sealed bulkhead doors.</p><p>He wasn’t getting out of this without a fight, was he?</p><p>The first guard was already moving forwards, and Ed knew he wouldn’t make it in time.</p><p>Five versus one. All of them armed, and him holding nothing. The odds weren’t great… but he’d faced worse.</p><p>Ed took another step back, and immediately knew he was out of time.</p><p>Plan A had been to seal the bulkhead doors between them, giving himself the chance to raise the alarm. Whatever everyone else thought, he wasn’t that reckless teenager anymore. He knew the value of <em>backup</em>.</p><p>But they weren’t going to give him that chance. In that case… Plan B… was to <em>beat the snot out of the lot of them</em>. How dare they? After all he’d done, everything he’d given up to save Amestris, these Drachmans were going to come in and carve another bloody seal upon the ground?</p><p>Not while Edward Elric still drew breath.</p><p>The first guard was fast, but Teacher had been <em>faster</em>, and that made for a world of difference. Ed ducked under his first swing, swerved to avoid his companion’s lance, and slammed a fist into the solar plexus of the first one.</p><p>One down, four to go.</p><p>The corridor was far narrower here, he noted, weaving through their attacks. These guards were <em>good</em>, but their polearms were a tad too long, their reactions just a hair too slow to compensate –</p><p>“What. Is going <em>ON</em> here?”</p><p>Ed never thought he’d be so glad to hear General Armstrong’s voice. Even the Drachman soldiers halted on sheer instinct alone.</p><p>“General Armstrong,” one of them barked out, before Ed could get a word in. “What is the meaning of this? We discovered this spy attempting to sneak into our Lady’s bedchambers –”</p><p>“He is not one of mine,” General Armstrong sniffed haughtily.</p><p>Ouch, thought Ed, but he was already shouting, “What ‘sneak into’?!” He pointed at his shirt. “What kind of spy would wear an engineer’s uniform?”</p><p>“One pretending to be a janitor –” Another Drachman guard began, but Ed wasn’t done.</p><p>“You guys attacked me when I walked in through the door, before I even said anything –”</p><p>“<em>Enough.</em>” It was but a single word, and yet it cut through the argument with the finality of a death-knell. “Cease your childish squabbling. Elric, what is your purpose on this floor?”</p><p>“You said you don’t know him –” Clearly someone was either foolhardy or stupid – or both.</p><p>“I said,” General Armstrong snapped, “that he is not one of mine.”</p><p>“I saw someone sending a message from the sixth room on this floor,” Ed reported, before they could start squabbling again. “I had no idea the Tsarevna was staying here.”</p><p>When he dared to glance back, General Armstrong’s face was like carved marble.</p><p>“P-preposterous!” one of the guards stuttered.</p><p>A fatal mistake. Her eyes narrowed in an instant, and Ed was fairly sure none of the Drachman guards noticed that they collectively took a step back. “You will excuse me, of course,” she said, her tone positively frosty, “if I deign to investigate this matter <em>personally</em>.” She swept past the five of them, her own guards in tow. “And you had better pray Mr Elric is mistaken.”</p><p> </p><p>---------- LINE BREAK ----------</p><p> </p><p>Ed had to run to catch up.</p><p>General Armstrong strode through the doors, her hand resting deceptively loosely by her side, though Ed knew very well how quickly she could draw her sword. The corridor beyond was empty at first, but as they went further, a figure came hurrying out of one of the rooms.</p><p>The sixth room down the corridor, to be exact.</p><p>“What is the meaning of this?” the new figure demanded.</p><p>“Tsarevna Vasiliev,” greeted General Armstrong. “May I ask – what were you doing?”</p><p>“Admiring the landscape,” the Tsarevna retorted, tugging her nightgown further around herself. “Or is that a crime now, Olivier Mira Armstrong?”</p><p>General Armstrong simply arched her brows. “And that requires a covered lantern?” She gestured to the item that the Tsarevna was holding in one hand. “How… illuminating.”</p><p>Ed was close enough to see the Tsarevna grit her teeth, to spot the way her muscles tensed, and therefore close enough to leap forwards and snatch the dagger out of her hand before she could do more than draw it.</p><p>They stared at each other for a long, unblinking moment.</p><p>The tableau was broken by the sound of the raid alarms, a deafening cacophony that very nearly startled Ed into dropping his guard. It was a good thing that he didn’t, for the Tsarevna wrenched her arm back, and almost succeeded in getting free, too, before she suddenly froze.</p><p>It probably had something to do with the sword against her neck.</p><p>“Take them to the dungeons.” General Armstrong’s mouth was set in a tight, thin line. “Make sure the cells are not within shouting distance of each other.”</p><p> </p><p>---------- LINE BREAK ----------</p><p> </p><p>With no idea what he should do, Ed retreated to the mission control room.</p><p>There was a sizeable crowd in there, engineers and support staff alike, but Ed ignored them all. His eyes swept over the myriad of screens, each showing a different area of the fortress. New technology from… Xing, probably. Something that allowed a designated location to be viewed remotely, via interconnected screens in the shape of symmetrical polygons? This was definitely alkahestry at work. It looked like Ling did send an ambassador down for those peace talks he’d been promising after all.</p><p>Normally, the ability to monitor the entire fortress from one room would have been invaluable. Right now, though? Right now being able to see what was going on was just making everything <em>worse</em>.</p><p>Someone – Ed had very little doubt as to who – had gotten one of the secret passages out of Briggs open. They were designed to be invisible from the outside, but no one had thought to disguise what they were from the inside, and now droves of Drachman soldiers were streaming steadily through.</p><p>The Briggs soldiers on that level were quick enough to respond, but it was like trying to contain water spilling out from a broken porcelain cup. Even the most impregnable fortress would fall if breached from the inside.</p><p>His fists clenched by his sides. If only he still had his alchemy – the broken door could be reconstructed in a flash, perhaps deadbolted. Nay, reinforced with base materials from one of those lightweight Northern automail scraps Captain Buccaneer had lying around, yes. It would need to hold up against the battering ram he could see on another screen after all.</p><p>The screens displayed only images, no sound, but it was all too easy for Ed to imagine the chaos happening twelve floors down, the constant wave of enemies slowly eroding away at Briggs’ perfect defence.</p><p>One of the engineers made a sound, and Ed’s head swung around just in time to catch sight of the Briggs tanks rolling out. General Armstrong was riding in the lead, of course, her face a mask of frozen fury, staring daggers into the distance.</p><p>Twenty-one… twenty-two…</p><p>Ed swallowed.</p><p>He didn’t need to make any calculations to know that it wasn’t enough by far, even if every Briggs soldier was worth three Drachman ones.</p><p>There <em>had</em> to be something he could do.</p><p>The foot soldiers didn’t scatter at the sight of the tanks, the way Ed half-hoped they might, and as the tanks drew nearer he suddenly understood why: the artillery threw javelins connected to long links of chain into the tank tracks, and with a horrible grinding noise Ed could actually hear from so far away, the first few tanks ground to a halt.</p><p>With a triumphant cry, the Drachman soldiers swarmed forth, easily slipping beyond the range of the turrets, and began hammering at the main hatch.</p><p>Minutes ticked by.</p><p>Ed half-expected General Armstrong to come bursting out of the tank at any moment, but nothing happened.</p><p>The Drachman soldiers only grew bolder at the lack of reprisal, a few going as far as to clamber onto the hull to pry at the hatch. Under any other circumstances, General Armstrong would probably have popped out and introduced her sword to the nearest soldier, but she couldn’t do that when there were a dozen guns pointed right where she would be. It was a stalemate.</p><p>Ed closed his eyes, blocking out the sight.</p><p><em>Think, Elric</em>.</p><p>Truth had taken away his ability to perform alchemy, but it hadn’t – <em>couldn’t</em> – take away his knowledge, his learning curve, his natural insatiable curiosity.</p><p>He wasn’t just the Fullmetal Alchemist.</p><p>He was also <em>Edward Elric</em>.</p><p>“Is there extract of pine sap?” He heard his voice say, as though from far away.</p><p>No one responded for a moment. Ed tore his gaze from the screens to fix the nearest engineer with his best Olivier Mira Armstrong imitation. “Well?”</p><p>“A-aye, Sir!”</p><p>He had everyone’s attention, now. Ed surveyed the small crowd. “Is this as far as Briggs can go?” he demanded. “Your General needs you, right now – are you going to let her down?”</p><p>“<em>No!</em>”</p><p>A grin split his face.</p><p>“You, and you.” Ed pointed at two random faces in the crowd. “Two barrels of pine sap, bring them up to the roof.” He turned to another group. “The three of you. Get boiled lard from the kitchens; as much as you can carry.” A thickener, a flammable agent, and something to hold it all together. “And the rest of you – some of that low-melting-point fuel you use in the tanks, and empty beer bottles.</p><p>He <em>did</em> just spend two years in Creta and Aerugo, after all. And while he’d spent most of his time sampling the local fare and immersing himself in the local culture, he also hadn’t been surprised to find a large section of their history museums devoted to warfare.</p><p>They <em>were </em>neighbours of Amestris after all.</p><p>“I need some fabric,” he muttered aloud to himself, taking the stairs to the fortress roof three at a time. A wooden pole as well, for the main body –</p><p>His eyes fell on that broom he had so carelessly discarded earlier.</p><p>Perfect.</p><p>A piece of cloth magically appeared by his elbow, just as he’d selected a good vantage spot. Ed shook his head at Briggs’ frightening efficiency, absent-mindedly muttering his thanks. There was a groove in the pole, he recalled, hacking away at the wood with his boot knife. Pare the wood to size, mount the makeshift sling, and check the counterbalance…</p><p>“Boss? What <em>is</em> this thing?”</p><p>It took Ed a few moments to remember to respond, busy as he was with setting up a production line for the grenades. “This is a hand-trebuchet,” he explained, pouring the mixture into the ceramic pot and sealing it shut. “Developed in Aerugo a few decades ago, that emperor used this to disrupt enemy formations in an open field whenever his castle came under siege.”</p><p>The grenade went into the sling, and then over the parapet.</p><p>“<em>Shoot it!</em>”</p><p>Every single soldier within ear-shot opened fire simultaneously, and one of them aimed true, for the jar burst into flames in mid-air.</p><p>“Aerugan Fire,” Ed said grimly, lobbing another into the air. He didn’t need to tell the soldiers to start shooting again, and several other engineers who had been making more hand-trebuchets began launching their own canisters as well.</p><p>Down below, the Drachman soldiers began screaming. Some of them tried to use snow to bat away the flames on their comrades, but they too caught on fire.</p><p>Ed just shook his head. “It’s meant for naval battles, because it works even when it’s wet.”</p><p>The Drachman army’s formation broke in an instant, soldiers retreating as fast as they could out of the range of the hand-trebuchets – and right into the range of the tank turrets.</p><p>General Armstrong popped her hatch open, sword in hand, and Ed knew it was all over.</p><p> </p><p>---------- LINE BREAK ----------</p><p> </p><p>The fighting went well into the early morning, the Drachman soldiers unwilling to give up their first ever advantage in centuries, but the Northern Wall of Briggs prevailed.</p><p>“Edward Elric,” she barked, the moment she strode into the mission control room. “The flamethrowers were your idea, I presume?” Blood was dripping from a cut on her brow, but she looked like she didn’t even notice.</p><p>“Yes,” Ed answered, rising up from his seat. There was little sense in prevaricating; she would have known these weren’t weapons that Briggs possessed.</p><p>General Armstrong turned a gimlet eye on him, her mouth still set into that tight disapproving line. “Miles informed me that you have a letter for me,” she suddenly said, apropos of nothing, and stretched out a hand.</p><p>Ed blinked, handing the letter over, watching as she broke the seal and scanned through the contents. That… hadn’t been what he was expecting her to say at all. Not a single demand for the recipe, or a threat of some kind?</p><p>Very calmly, she folded the letter back up, and then ripped it into tiny pieces.</p><p>“It looks like I have Mustang to thank for your timely arrival.” Her face twisted, like she’d bitten into a lemon. “In any case, it seems as though we will not be going forth with the peace treaty with Drachma this time around. I will need you to take a letter back to Mustang.”</p><p>Ed opened his mouth to remind her that he was no longer in the military’s employ, much less Mustang’s subordinate, but then General Armstrong fingered the hilt of her sword non-too-subtly, and his mouth snapped shut.</p><p>It looked like he was going to be stuck playing messenger boy for just a bit longer.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Find me on <a href="https://discord.gg/8yJVmbD">Discord</a> | <a href="http://starriewolf.tumblr.com">Tumblr</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/Starrie_Wolf">Twitter</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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